


Dancing Around

by farad



Category: The Magnificent Seven
Genre: M/M, OW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-14
Updated: 2009-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-02 16:31:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Tarlanx's biehn_fiction challenge, BEATS #4, prompt number 2:  Dance-halls called hurdy gurdies - men often danced together, because women were scarce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing Around

There wasn't much to the town -- couple of restaurants, one hotel, and a saloon with a dance hall.

After ten days of roughing it, it was a welcome relief.

They sat at the bar, watching Ezra as he settled into a game. It was a bit of a relief -- the three of them traveled all right together, but Chris would rather if it had been just him and Vin.

Beside him, Vin shifted, catching his eye. "Gonna be dancing," he said, tilting his head toward the line of women seated against one wall. "Might be something to think on."

Chris looked at him, frowning. "You got your eye on one of 'em?" he asked, glancing back to the ladies. There weren't many of them, and most looked like women who'd been in this desert too long, despite the layers of make-up they wore.

Vin snorted, turning back to his drink. "Ain't got that kinda money, and if I did, I'd want more than a dance and a grope."

Chris leaned in against him, his voice low. "Been wanting that since we got on this trail."

Vin's lips quirked just a little. "Reckon so. Like Ezra well enough but could stand some quiet time."

Chris chuckled, knowing that Vin meant it literally; Ezra never let an opportunity to comment pass, and there had been ample opportunity on this trip, laden as they had been with the distance and the need for speed. They'd made it to Tucson, delivering Judge Travis' papers to the Governor of the Arizona Territory, as they had been commissioned to do. They'd spent one night in Tucson, but it had been short and uncomfortable, the three of them in one room. Ezra had played at one of the gambling halls while Chris had met with the Governor and answered his questions, leaving Vin to tend the horses and ready them for the return trip. Vin got the most sleep that night, and it was restless, interrupted by the noises of the active town and the expectation of his companions' returns.

By the time they arrived in Benson, they were ready for a hot meal and a good bed. The town had both, and a little entertainment between. Better, they had two rooms in the hotel, and Ezra assumed that he would get one to himself, leaving Chris and Vin to share. Chris was more than fine with that.

The musicians started, a fiddle and drum, and the women paired off quickly with willing -- paying -- men.

But by the second dance, Chris saw what he had been looking for. With a glance over his shoulder to make sure Ezra was still deep in his cards, he moved in closer, his lips brushing Vin's hair. "Seems dancing don't always require a lady."

When Vin drew away, Chris used his chin to point to the far corner of the saloon. They danced in couples, moving in the periphery of the pairs made up of a man and a woman. In each of the outer couples, one of the men wore a bandana tied around his arm, a sign that in the dance, he was the 'woman'.

Vin looked back at Chris, then past him to Ezra, the question clear.

When he looked back at Chris, Chris tilted his head to the far corner. It was out of Ezra's line of sight should he decide to look for them. Not that he would see anything out of the ordinary; there weren't nearly enough women out here, certainly not in these smaller outposts, where the danger was greater and the population more unsettled.

But Ezra didn't need to see these two men together, didn't need to have a tale to carry back to Four Corners.

Vin's brow furrowed, and he looked back to Ezra. After a few seconds, when his eyes met Chris' once more, Chris smiled. With one finger, he touched the pink bandana Vin was wearing.

Vin sighed, but the corners of his lips twitched. He lifted his mug, drinking down the rest of his beer in a deep, slow swallow that made his Adams apple bob in his long throat.

As he set his empty mug on the bar, he straightened and looked straight into Chris' eyes. Arching one eyebrow, he reached up and unknotted the bandana, pulling it from his throat.

Chris grinned -- until Vin held the cloth out to him, returning the grin.

By the time they sorted out that Vin was wearing the bandana, his coat draped with Chris' over their barstools, the fifth song was starting, a slower one than the last four.

A number of the male couples left the area, laughing and joking, and leaving more room on the floor. Chris drew Vin further back, into the shadows.

"We ain't gotta -- "

Chris caught Vin at the waist and the shoulder, drawing them together. "Hush up," he said as they bumped against each other. "And remember -- I'm leading."

Vin let him, but it was an effort, not because Vin wanted the control, but because of the two of them, Vin was the better dancer. More than once, Chris took his cue from the shift of Vin's hip under his hand, the step of his foot -- when Chris wasn't tripping on his own.

Better, though, was the feel of Vin under his hands and pressed close, the warmth of his body, the hardness of it against Chris' own. Ten days --twelve since they'd had any time together.

His cock stirred, as it always did when he thought of their times together. Vin was different. Not just because he was male, which was different enough.

But he was also different in his approach to sex. There was a sort of desperation in him that made everything more intense, more pleasurable -- but also just on the edge of pain.

Sometimes, when Vin pushed at just the right time, it went over the edge.

But it was Vin who wanted the pain, who wanted it rougher, harder, faster.

The music stopped, and Vin grinned at him. "Best let me go," he said quietly. "Folks will talk."

"Let 'em," Chris shot back, holding tighter.

Vin shook his head, pulling away. "How 'bout we head upstairs?" he asked, his voice low and more raspy than usual. "Been a long couple of days."

Chris grinned. The music was starting again, but he let himself be led toward the stairs, picking up their coats along the way. He glanced back, not surprised to find Ezra's attention still on the game. It'd be hours before he made it upstairs and he'd assume that Chris and Vin were already settled in for the night. He would he right, but not quite in the way he thought.

Chris followed Vin up the stairs, liking the way his hips swayed, framed as they were by his gunbelt.

There were people in the hallway, so he stood away from Vin as Vin unlocked the door to their room. But he followed Vin in, not closing the door until Vin had the lamp lit, and they could see their way around. He double-checked the lock on the door, making certain the key was on the dresser, then turned back to find Vin dropping his coat and hat on the trunk in the far corner. The lamp was on the bedside table, turned low enough to cast shadows into the corners of the room, but bright enough to bring out the lighter colors in Vin's hair, the gold tips of his whiskers.

Male, unquestionably. There was no way Chris could ever have confused him with a woman.

"Chris?" Vin asked, turning to him and frowning. "Something wrong?" His hand dropped to his gun.

From below, the music wasn't loud but it was clear, and Vin had to raise his voice to be heard.

Chris shook his head once, then he gestured to Vin's gun belt. At the same time, he dropped his own coat and hat, then set about removing his guns and belt which he put over the rail at the foot of the bed.

As Vin turned from the head of the bed, where he'd draped his gun belt over the post, Chris closed on him, catching him once more at the hips and pulling him close. "Like dancing with you," he said quietly, pulling Vin far closer than social convention would allow. Close enough to feel the pressure of Vin's cock against his own, not hard yet, but getting there.

Close enough to slide his hands over the swell of Vin's ass, the coarse weave of denim warm and rough to his touch.

He heard a noise and realized he had moaned. Vin chuckled, the sound close in Chris' ear.

"This ain't quite dancing," he said, his hands moving over Chris' back. "More like rubbing together."

"You got a problem with that?" Chris asked, moving his hips from side to side with the music. Vin moved with him, his erection growing more noticeable against Chris'. "Besides, ain't that what the purpose of dancing is? To rub up against somebody in public?"

Vin laughed, or started to, but the sound changed as Chris pressed closer against him.

"Like it better in private," he said, nuzzling into Vin's hair.

They moved quietly for a time, the music regular and even, not too fast but not too slow. The rhythm created a steady tension between them, their cocks rubbing against each other through the layers of heavy cloth, Chris' hands kneading at Vin's ass. He could feel the change in Vin, the desire building, his body tightening.

The kiss, when it came, was easy, Vin tilting his head just enough, Chris bending just a little. Lips at first, a wet touch, then mouths open, tongues twirling.

Vin tasted of beer and some sort of mint, one of the leaves he liked to chew. His hand rose, catching the back of Chris' head in a familiar grip. It wasn't for control, though; Vin didn't try to guide anything. It was for leverage, to bring them closer, to get deeper into Chris.

It was then, Chris knew later, that was the point at which Vin's intensity started to grow, when the desperation began to affect him. To affect them.

They were still moving from side to side, still grinding against each other in time to the distant music. Vin reached between them, pulling at the buttons on Chris' shirt. He always started this way, Chris thought, always went for the bare skin. Vin liked to feel their bodies against each other, slick with sweat, liked to lick at Chris, tasting him as if he were a sweet of some kind.

The first few times, it had been awkward for Chris, but Vin's tongue was a wonder, no matter where he put it. That had been a surprise, too, that Vin would do that, put it there, on Chris' cock. Put his whole mouth there. Chris was still uncomfortable with returning the favor, even though, on the rare occasions when he did, there was no doubt about Vin's appreciation of it.

He let Vin push his shirt off his arms, shivering as calloused fingers coasted along his flesh, not quite tickling, not quite touching. Before it hit the floor, Vin's mouth was on one of his nipples, sucking so hard it hurt.

"Hey," he said, trying to push Vin away, "you ain't getting nothing out of that!"

Vin let go, grinning up at him. "Reckon I should try lower then," he said, dropping to his knees.

His hands were at the opening to Chris' pants, pulling at the buttons deftly, freeing Chris' erection before Chris had a chance to think past what Vin had said.

Then Vin was doing that thing he did with his mouth, and for a while, Chris lost the ability to think.

The pressure built, though, taking the edge from his full appreciation, reminding him that it wasn't going to last. The pressure wasn't as distracting as the fact of what was causing it, and how. If he let go, Vin would still be in need. And Chris wasn't in the mood tonight to convince himself to do this. He wanted to come another way -- wanted to come inside Vin, but not in his mouth.

He had to work to get his hand under Vin's chin, to draw him back and give him time to breathe. Vin sat back on his heels, gasping as he looked up at Chris. His lips were wet and swollen, hair hanging in his face.

"Ain't how I want to finish," Chris said, hearing the heat in his own voice. "Get out of them clothes."

Vin looked up at him, his eyes slow, like he was drunk -- but he wasn't, Chris knew that. Not on beer or whiskey.

He leaned down, tugging at the knot on the bandana still tied around Vin's upper arm. Vin's head turned, following the movement.

"It bothers you, don't it," Vin murmured, his words hushed.

"What?" Chris said, drawing off the bandana and tossing it to the dresser.

Vin looked up at him, a little more focused. "That I have to wear that."

Chris grinned at him. "How else am I gonna get you to dance with me?" he asked.

Vin's frown deepened, and Chris ran through the conversation again -- until he caught the real issue. It wasn't what he wanted to think on now, not this close to having sex.

Instead, he caught Vin's arms, helping him to his feet, helping him catch his balance. Helping him as he toed off his boots and threw off his shirt at the same time. Helping him as he stripped out of his pants, his erection standing tall and proud, slick with his own need.

As Vin stepped out of the puddle of his pants, Chris let his hand drift down, the outside of his index finger rubbing lightly along the soft skin of the shaft.

Vin caught his breath, his hands gripping Chris' shoulders hard enough to bruise. Chris looked at his face, pleased to see the slackness of his features. He wasn't the only one close.

"On the bed," he murmured, "on your knees."

Vin shivered, but he said, "Rather see you."

It wasn't the way Chris preferred, the reminders too close, too stark. He loved fucking Vin, loved being with him, maybe even loved him, he wasn't sure on that. But he didn't love the reminders of Vin's maleness. When they were face to face, he missed the soft pillow of breasts he had with a woman, missed the smooth skin of her neck and face as he thrust into her. Vin was flat and rough and whiskered, and even though his eyes were prettier than most women's, it was hard to stare into them, the needs of their bodies taking over.

Chris leaned into him, still caressing the outside of Vin's cock as he whispered, "Can't get deep enough that way -- want to bury myself in you, want to own you."

Vin's breath caught, as it always did when Chris said things like that, possessive things.

They kissed again, deep and sloppy, ending up with Chris' hands in Vin's hair, Vin's erection pressing hard into Chris' belly. It hurt a little, enough to make him uneasy again, and he drew back. "You got something?"

Vin grinned and stepped back, moving to his saddle bags. Chris watched him, appreciating the way he moved, his hips rocking a little, his ass muscled and round, his hair hanging long now, almost to his shoulder blades. From behind, he could have been a woman.

It was stirring, Chris' erection jerking a little at the sight. He shed his pants while Vin sifted through his bags, returning with a cloth-wrapped bottle that was sealed with a cork stopper. His erection stood tall and dark against his belly, and Chris' gaze skittered away, up Vin's body, over the scar of the knife wound on his ribs, over the tiny point of one nipple, over the sharp indentation where his neck met his chest. He rested his gaze on Vin's eyes.

"Saddle oil?" Chris asked as Vin handed him the bottle.

"Best I could find," Vin answered, his lips brushing over Chris'. "Unless you can think of something else?"

They'd used less, and Chris didn't want that now, he wanted the slickness of sliding into the tight heat of someone who wanted him -- the slickness that he associated with a willing woman.

This was as close as he'd get with Vin.

Vin climbed up onto the bed, looking back over his shoulder. "Come on, then," he grinned, "I ain't waiting all night."

Even though he would have, Chris knew; Vin would do anything he asked him to.

It was odd, and frightening in its way. Sarah had never been that way; she'd let him know in less than a breath if she didn't like something he wanted, whether it was in the bedroom or out.

Even Maria, the whore he fancied in Purgatorio, wouldn't wait for him; she worked for her money and if he wasn't paying, she wasn't waiting. And if he wanted something she didn't like, he paid a lot more, or he didn't get it.

Vin, though. . . Vin would wait, ready and willing, begging, if he thought it would work.

And it would, Chris knew. He unstoppered the bottle, pouring a little of the oil into his hand. Instinctively, his hand went to his cock, smearing the oil as it moved over his shaft and head. The thick fluid was warm and heavy, but in a way that made him think of sliding into a perfect place.

He took a deep breath and realized that his eyes were closed. It was an effort to pry them open, and when he did, he wasn't surprised to find Vin grinning at him.

"Forget something?" he asked.

Chris grinned back at him. "Hard to forget you," he said, and it wasn't a lie. In some ways, it was too true.

He poured a little more oil onto his fingers, setting the bottle carefully on the bedside table beside the lamp before moving up close.

In the low light, Vin's skin seemed to shine. His lower body was pale and smooth, sparse hair glinting a little. The muscles were taut, defined, but not too much. He wasn't a woman, but he wasn't overly masculine. It was one of the reasons Chris liked this position.

He knelt on the bed between Vin's legs, his oily fingers trailing lightly over one thigh and along the curve of a buttock. Vin did have the best ass Chris had ever seen, be it male or female.

The touch was too light, he thought as Vin shivered and his skin pimpled. But Vin didn't object, tossing his head down so that his hair hung down to the mattress. The position shifted his ass higher, and Chris felt his own breath catch.

Of their own volition, his fingers slipped into the cleft, seeking out the small circle. He rubbed over it, the oil making the smoothness of it even softer and more like satin.

Vin groaned low and pushed back, wanting more. Wanting Chris in him, wanting to be taken. Like a woman, the fact of being penetrated seemed to stir Vin with more want than a hand touching his cock. Vin had never asked to fuck Chris. There had been a hint once or twice, a carefully vague suggestion, but when Chris had ignored it, Vin had never mentioned it again. And truth be told, Chris didn't see that Vin could get any more pleasure from taking someone as he did from being taken. Most times, Chris barely had to touch him for him to come, long, milky strands shooting so far that Chris worried Vin's balls were going to shrink up and disappear.

Chris breached the circle, sliding the tips of two fingers just inside. Vin stopped moving, but he was tense, his muscles sharply defined. Not pain, Chris knew, but pleasure, pleasure so sharp that it would end soon if Chris wasn't careful.

"Need you," Vin whispered, "now, Chris."

"You're not ready," Chris countered, but he felt the urgency in his own belly, the winding of the spring.

"You're slick, ain't ya?" Vin asked, and his head came up a little, his words more air than sound. "Come on, get to it."

"You got somewhere to be?" Chris asked, drawing his fingers back out and watching as the ring flexed open and closed, inviting.

"Heaven, I hope," Vin said, "if I don't end up falling asleep waiting for you."

Chris chuckled despite himself. "Just remember, this was your idea." He edged up, taking hold of his erection and guiding it snug up against that dark ring. He could feel it pulsing against the tip of his cock, a rhythmic pulse that he knew would match the beating of Vin's heart.

There was something in this moment, this space of time when he was positioned but waiting. Anticipation, he thought, knowing what he was going to do and how good it was going to feel. He had it with women, but for some reason, it always seemed stronger with Vin. Perhaps because Vin was tighter, this part of him not made for what they were doing the way a woman was.

He pressed forward just a little, the tip of his cock breaching the ring. It was unlike any other sensation, the smooth skin caressing the most sensitive part of him, giving way reluctantly.

As the widest part of the head pushed through, he forced himself to stop. It was an effort, his need a force of its own, and it was an exercise of his strength of will that he didn't often practice.

"Damnation!" Vin spat under him. "Keep going!"

It was odd, he thought, that he was more concerned about Vin's pain than Vin was. But he knew that wasn't quite true. He was more concerned about the physical aspect, the part that he could control.

How Vin felt about him, how he felt about Vin -- that was a far harder issue to consider.

One he didn't want to come close to now, even though he knew it was growing bigger in his mind.

So, to ignore it, to pretend it wasn't there, he did as Vin wanted, thrusting hard and deep, ignoring the little sounds Vin made that could have been pain or pleasure.

It did feel good -- it felt great, as it always did. As long as it was slick enough, it was better than a woman, something Chris tried not to think on too much.

He went as deep as he could, as far as he could, until he was pressed up against the hard muscles of Vin's ass. Vin shivered under him, making that little noise again, the one that might be pain or pleasure.

Then he moved, pressing back against Chris to take him as far as he could.

Instinctively, Chris' hands moved up, sliding along Vin's ribs, over the smooth scar, and slipping under, reaching for -- what wasn't there.

As it always did, it threw him for an instant and his fingers scrabbled against the flat plane of Vin's chest, rubbing at his nipples.

Vin moaned then, the noise louder than those previous, and all in pleasure, Chris knew. He got control of his hands, his fingers pinching over the small tips of Vin's nipples.

Vin arched back against him, crying out.

"Shhhh," Chris hissed, but his own speed was picking up, his need coiling.

Vin dropped, his arms folding down so that his head rested on them. Biting himself, Chris knew, to keep quiet. He'd seen the marks from other times, knew how much pain Vin could stand.

How much he liked to stand.

Chris caught his nipples tightly, twisting a little, and Vin bucked. But as before, it was back against him, forcing more contact. Vin wasn't going to last long, Chris knew -- Vin was pushing the tempo faster, grating against him, twisting his hips, rocking back and forth -- everything to push the stimulation.

Which was pushing Chris along, too.

He fondled Vin's nipples, thrusting hard and fast, then bent over him. Vin's shoulder blades were sharp, sticking out as he braced on his arms, and Chris had no hesitation, his teeth closing over one knobby point.

That was all it took. Vin jerked, made a noise that was muffled in his arm, then his body locked in release.

His muscles shuddered, rippling over Chris' erection with such force that Chris barely held his own cry. Then he was lost in his release.

His first awareness as he came back to himself was of the copper taste in his mouth. Blood, he thought hazily, and he realized that his jaw was hurting.

Vin shifted under him, his voice a hiss. "Move, please," he said, and Chris registered that he was on top of Vin, pressing him down.

He pushed himself up, but it took several attempts to get his arms under him then to get his mouth open and off of Vin. To get himself out of Vin.

He came free with a wet sound, Vin grunting.

He rolled onto his back, more from gravity than design, stretching out on the mattress. Beside him, Vin sighed and slowly shifted, stretching out onto his belly. His eyes were closed, but his head turned toward Chris, as always.

His lips were dark, and there were little drips of red at one corner. Chris glanced to Vin's arm which was outstretched above his head. A crimson oval stood out against the tanned flesh, spider-leg trails drifting from it as well.

It reminded him of the taste in his own mouth and he moved a hand sluggishly to wipe at his lips. He wasn't really surprised when it came back streaked in thin lines of red and pink.

"You all right?" he asked, surprised at how weak his voice was.

Vin's lips twitched a little but he didn't open his eyes. "Never better," he mumbled. "You?"

Chris grinned. "Same."

They rested in silence for a while, Chris letting his eyes drift closed with the image of Vin before him. Eventually, as they cooled down, Vin shifted then pushed himself up. Chris opened his eyes in time to see the wince on his features as he arched his back.

"What?" Chris asked, even though he knew.

Vin shook his head, but Chris was already getting up, looking to Vin's back.

"Damn," he muttered, reaching out to wipe at the tickle of blood edging down Vin's spine. "I didn't know I'd . . . "

"Ain't nothing," Vin said, "just stings a might." He pushed up onto his knees, and Chris saw the way his skin pebbled. He was cold, and he'd go for his clothes.

Most times, that was a sort of relief. The worry of getting caught was the excuse Chris used in his own head, but on the rare occasions when he allowed himself to think on it, he knew that it was the sight of Vin naked. He was nice to look at, nothing wrong with him at all, especially from behind. Except that he was a man, like Chris, and when he was naked, it was hard to ignore that fact.

Hard not to think about all the reasons why Chris shouldn't be doing this. All the things wrong with Chris himself.

Now, though, he didn't so much want to see Vin as feel him, have that bare body close against his own.

"Wait," he said, half surprised with himself.

Vin was standing, his hand on his pants. He'd bent over to get them, and Chris could see the soft shine of wetness on the back of his thighs, a wetness Chris had put there himself. Least there was nothing dark in it, so there was one place he hadn't drawn blood.

As Vin turned, his body coming into the light, Chris saw similar patches of glimmer on his belly. It reminded him that Vin had gotten off with no one touching his cock.

It wasn't the first time, probably wouldn't be the last, but it still amazed Chris that Vin could find release in the fact of being fucked. It -- wasn't something Chris liked to think on.

As if knowing his thoughts, Vin took the few steps to the dresser and the pitcher of water and bowl there. He made short work of cleaning himself up, not looking at Chris as he wiped along his ass and thighs. He rinsed out the cloth and hung it over the side of the bowl before grabbing his pants back up.

"Come here," Chris said, pushing himself off the bed and pulling back the covers.

Vin frowned, glancing to the door.

Chris shook his head. "It's locked, but if you want, put a chair in front of it."

Vin nodded, then shook out his pants as if to still put them on. Chris frowned and cleared his throat. When Vin looked at him, he shook his head.

Vin's face clouded with the question, but he didn't ask. He dropped his pants back to the floor and walked over to the door, confirmed that it was locked, then pushed one of the wooden chairs into place in front of it.

He rubbed at his upper arms as he came back toward the bed, and Chris watched him, the sway of his hips, the drift of his man-parts.

He looked up to find Vin looking at him, his face unreadable. But there was something in his eyes, something Chris didn't know.

"Come on," he said, holding out an arm. "Want to lay with you."

Vin tilted his head to one side. "Done did that," he said softly. "You ain't gotta pretend that you want more. I know I ain't what you got in mind for more than a fuck."

The bluntness of it was like a shot to the gut. Chris sucked in a little air, blinking. The impulse to deny was instant, but he caught himself, knowing that anything he said now -- everything he said, he'd be locked into.

Worse, Vin knew that, too, and knew him.

"That sound truthful to you?" he asked instead, watching Vin as Vin was watching him.

Vin didn't look away but his gaze grew a little hazy, as if he were thinking. After a time, he said, "Maybe more, maybe friends. But I ain't no romance, and you ain't gotta treat me like one."

Chris smiled despite himself. "No, you ain't someone to romance." The very idea of bringing Vin flowers and taking him on moonlit walks, holding his hand -- he snorted.

Vin's face tightened a little, and Chris saw it again, that thing he couldn't read.

He moved his outstretched hand so that he caught Vin's arm, just above the elbow. "You ain't no woman," he said, "no question about that. But that don't have nothing to do with wanting to sleep beside you �" hell, we'd be doing that, anyway. Just thought it might be nice to hold you. And it'd make it easier in the morning, not to have to be messing with the clothes."

Vin's face pinched just a little more until the words registered. Then he relaxed and his lips quirked. "Reckon can't hurt not to have to waste the time yanking our pants down."

He stepped closer, making to get into the bed, but Chris caught his other arm as well. He stared into Vin's eyes, knowing Vin would follow the line of thought, then he leaned forward slowly, until their lips met.

Vin didn't deny him, but at first, he didn't give back. It took a few seconds for him to give in to the contact, to the pressure of Chris' lips on his.

They didn't do this often, rarely outside of the heat of passion. Chris wanted to now, wanted to hold Vin close -- wanted to sleep with him. They did that from time to time, at the shack, and usually after sex. But even there, they were usually dressed, pants at least, partly because the bed was small and at some point, one of them would get up and move to the floor.

"Big bed," Chris said around the kiss. "Be nice to have you in it all night."

Vin pulled back a little, his hands pressing against Chris' chest. "You ain't gotta, Chris," he said quietly. "You don't owe me nothing."

Chris leaned back, looking at him. "Think I know that," he answered. "Ain't about you."

It wasn't. Not this time.

Vin nodded and slipped past Chris to crawl into the bed.

"Wait up," Chris said, touching Vin's hip. As Vin glanced back, Chris got the cloth he'd left on the water bowl and came back. "Might sting some more," he said, slowly touching the wet cloth to the bite he'd made on Vin's shoulder blade.

Vin hissed a little at the contact, but he didn't complain or move away. It had stopped bleeding and Chris was careful not to reopen it. He wiped down the rest of Vin's back, getting up the trickles of blood that had edged lower, now that Vin was on his feet.

When he was done, he slapped Vin lightly on the ass, liking the way it tightened, the roundness and definition of the hard muscle. Vin shivered but took the implied command and got into the bed.

Chris blew out the light then came in after him, smiling as Vin settled on his back, drawing the sheet and blankets up to his neck like a proper young virgin. Chris waited until the other man was still, then moved in close, stretching out against him.

Vin was tense, at first, shy, Chris realized, which was so out of character that it didn't sit well. "Ain't never seen you like this," he said into the darkness, his words low. "Ain't never seen you scared."

Vin's body tightened more and his answer was what Chris expected. "Ain't scared," he said gruffly, his rasp grating against the backdrop of the saloon noise from downstairs. "Just . . . "

Chris waited, wondering if, in the darkness, Vin would voice the words he wouldn't say earlier. Wondering if he, too, could talk about this thing they had avoided for so long.

After a time, Vin spoke again, his voice so low that it almost didn't carry over the other noises. "I reckon what we do, what we get up to, well, it's just a . . . distraction for you. Reckon you prefer others and I'm just a . . . well, I know I ain't your first choice."

There was something in his voice, or maybe in the way that it caught, and Chris stopped, listening to it again in his head. "Am I your first choice?" he heard himself ask.

Once the question was out of his mouth, he knew he couldn't pull it back. It was the heart of things between them, the center that Chris had avoided. Had been avoiding tonight.

Vin was silent for a while, his body too tense to be sleeping. He might pretend that he didn't hear the question, and part of Chris hoped that he would; but that was the coward's way out, and he was not a coward, not once something was out in the open.

"Yeah," Vin whispered eventually. "You are."

It was out now. Chris could pretend that he hadn't heard it, but they both knew it would be that -- pretense. Avoiding it.

Vin went on, though, not giving him the choice. "It's all right, though, don't expect you to think the same way, never have. I thought 'bout lying 'bout it, but I think you know the answer already -- don't think you'd have asked if you didn't."

Chris wondered about that, but some how, he knew it was true. It had been pushing at him tonight, and at Vin, too, he thought, remembering the things Vin had said.

"What about that woman, the one with the wagon train?" Chris asked. "I thought you were right sweet on her."

Vin shifted under the bedclothes, and Chris unthinkingly let his arm fall over the other man's belly, pulling him close.

Vin made a small noise, surprised, but Chris wasn't certain what of it had caught him unawares.

"So what about her?" Chris pushed. "Seemed like you were ready to put the rest of us behind you."

Vin's head moved, his nose brushing against Chris' chin. "It wasn't . . . " He sighed, his body molding against Chris'. "Figured you was getting ready to take off with Mary, and I didn't want to have to watch that. Charlotte. . . well, ain't had someone need me as much as she did. Or want me, I guess. Knew it wasn't going to last, guess I even knew that I was letting it all get under me, but I couldn't seem to stop it. Not 'til we came back, and Will got hurt."

"She loved him more than she knew, huh. Happens a lot with women." It had been part of what kept Sarah with him when she got angry -- deservedly, he admitted.

"Don't know much 'bout how women think," Vin said slowly, "but I guess so."

Chris thought on that for a few seconds. "You never had a lady-friend?" he asked, unable to use the word 'wife'. The idea of Vin married seemed alien -- and painful in ways he hadn't expected.

Vin chuckled. "I ain't been a virgin in a long damned time," he said. "Women, mostly, so don't go getting any ideas. I ain't never had a lady-friend for very long, though. Never seemed like a good idea."

Chris nodded, understanding. Vin had been rambling around in different jobs, all jobs that required rambling, as it were. Hard to have a settled life with someone when the job went all over the place.

"You ever think about it now?" he asked.

Vin's nose brushed along Chris' cheek. "Think about having a lady-friend, or a wife? Still got a price on my head. Wouldn't do that to someone who depended on me."

They'd come back to it, Chris knew, and for a few seconds, he held off. But he knew that if he didn't ask now, if they didn't settle it now -- well, it'd be settled in a way that he wasn't ready to accept. It was on the table between them, this 'thing', and if he ignored it now, it'd fester like an untended wound. A wound to Vin's heart.

"What if you didn't have a price on your head? Would you find a lady-friend then?"

Vin took a deep breath, letting it out slow. There was a faint whistle as it cleared through his nose, and Chris warmed a little; Vin made the same little whistle when he slept, a familiar sound that usually lulled Chris. A sound that Chris had come to know as well as he knew the worn grip of his revolver, or the low creak of his saddle.

"Chris," Vin said after a while, the word blowing over Chris' lips.

There was a tone of warning in it -- an offer to let this go.

Festering wound, Chris reminded himself. He took a few seconds to appreciate the heat of Vin's body against his, the slickness of his skin. He was hard, sharp edges at his hips and shoulders, and Chris knew that, without thinking, he kept his hand over the softer area of Vin's belly rather than the flat stretch of his chest.

"You gonna tell me that you've already answered the question, aren't you," he said, nuzzling against the side of Vin's head.

Vin didn't move, not even breathing for a few seconds. When he did, he swallowed first, and one hand moved under the blankets, coming to rest on Chris' hand on his belly. "Yeah," he mumbled. "Reckon I am."

His fingers tightened on Chris' hand, holding him, Chris thought. Scared for real now, waiting for Chris to leave.

For a few seconds, the thought ran through Chris' mind; the idea of someone like Vin feeling like that about him was unsettling. A little sickening, if he thought on it too closely.

But also -- also something else. Something warm and deep, reminding him some of Sarah.

Thinking of her seemed wrong, and he squelched the idea. But the feeling of it stayed behind, the deep warmness.

"It don't mean nothing for you," Vin said. The words were rushed and his voice was airy, as if he were afraid of making a sound. "Hell, don't reckon it means anything for me, not really, so don't go on the worry -- "

"Hush." He leaned down, silencing Vin with a quick kiss to his cheek.

Vin was tense again, his body unyielding as Chris shifted against him to find the pillow.

"It means something, Vin," he said softly, the words stirring Vin's hair. "Means a lot more than I can think on right now. Ain't often someone says such to me."

Vin chuckled, but it wasn't a happy sound. "Ain't often you hear it from a man, either. Not one you don't shoot on the spot."

"Not gonna shoot you," he said, closing his eyes. "Not gonna run away from you, either."

He didn't say anything else, and in the quiet, eventually, Vin relaxed. Chris didn't remember falling asleep, but when he awoke, the room was still dark and the building quiet.

Vin had turned onto his side, his back to Chris, one bare shoulder visible in the pale light of the slowly-breaking dawn. Chris came to himself slowly, his mind drifting over their last conversation, over his own thoughts.

The repulsion was distant, present, but distant. He was more aware of the body close to his, the one he knew as intimately as he did his own. Maybe more so.

It went against the things he'd been raised to believe -- men didn't have feelings for other men, nothing that went beyond friendship, leastways. He and Vin were friends, close. Had been a lot longer than they'd been sharing their pleasures.

Too close, probably, now anyway. But the thought of putting Vin aside, putting space between them hurt more than it helped. The thought of not having Vin at his back brought on a pain that was close to what he'd felt after that horrible fire.

Vin rolled onto his back, snuffling a little with the movement. The little whistle was there, and Chris wondered when he'd grow tired of it.

Probably never, a voice in the far back of his head whispered.

It was a startling thought. Mostly because it was true.

Vin's nose twitched, and he turned to one side, toward Chris, to rub it against the pillow.

His lashes were long on his sharp cheekbones, like a woman's almost. His long hair was like a veil over his cheek, obscuring some of the bristles of his beard.

Some, but not all, and not enough to create any illusion.

"You gonna stare all day?" Vin mumbled, his voice raspy from sleep. He blinked his eyes open, and they slowly focused on Chris.

Pale blue in the spare light, but warm, open, and trusting.

"Maybe," Chris answered.

Vin snorted and rolled away, pushing himself up. The bedclothes fell away and he shivered in the room's chill. The cold didn't stop him, though, and he crawled over Chris and off the side of the bed. He stumbled a little, getting his bearings, Chris knew, then made his way through the dimness to the corner, where the chamber pot was.

Sarah had always needed a light, Chris remembered, most women did. Most women pissed quieter, too, he thought, amused, as the sound of Vin's stream hitting the metal container sounded through the room.

It made Chris realize that he needed to do the same, and he forced himself out of the bed and headed unsteadily toward the corner where Vin stood.

Vin stepped back and turned as Chris came up to him. The sun had risen a little, enough for the first rays to creep into the room and cast it in pale light. Vin was still an outline, a shadow, only the white of his eyes and teeth glinting in the shadow of the corner.

But he brushed against Chris, not aware he was there, and his body -- his cock, brushed against Chris' thigh.

They'd had sex, they'd had this conversation, put the situation in the opening. But in this second, Chris knew with a certainty that he had felt about little else in his life, that he was now more intimate with Vin than he had ever been with anyone else in his life -- even Sarah.

It was the nature of their shared gender, the nature of their friendship.

More, though, it was in the way Chris felt about him -- and he did feel it.

His arm reached out, catching Vin just above the shoulder -- holding him still, and close. Their flaccid cocks rubbed together, not yet erotic but not as off-putting as it should have been.

Chris wondered if he was changing, if what Vin had said was getting to him.

Maybe. It was going to be slow, though, for when he joined Vin in the bed, he again took him from behind, his hands working Vin's nipples. As he grew close to his own release, he moved one hand down Vin's body, over his ribs and across his tight belly, down to his cock.

He had to think about it, he always did, but not for long; the building need in his balls always overcame his reluctance.

And when he touched it, his hand wrapping loosely around the slender shaft, Vin bucked back against him and came.

Later, his body cooling and Vin beside him, he found himself rubbing the fingers of his hand together, the skin sticky with Vin's release. He dropped his hand to the sheet under him without a thought, but as he started wiping, he caught himself, thinking about it.

He brought his hand to his mouth, tentatively licking at his fingers.

It didn't taste bad. In fact, it didn't taste any worse than a woman did, after he'd had his hand in her.

No, he thought, it wasn't the taste, it was the cock itself.

"Chris," Vin said softly, and he looked over to find the other man frowning at him. But there was something else on his face, anxious, Chris thought.

Waiting for Chris to back out of it.

Only one way to prove otherwise, Chris thought, even though the worry in Vin's eyes was going to be a pain in the ass. But he could ignore it. Hell, he'd been ignoring so many other things that it was kind of nice to have this be the thing highest on the list.

He grinned at his lover and held his hand open, his fingers extended, and licked from the wrist to the tip of his fingers. Vin's eyes flared with surprise but with a little heat as well.

Chris almost moved his hand over, thinking to let Vin have a turn, but then he thought better of it. Time to start putting that anxiety to rest, he thought, so instead, he stretched his neck and leaned toward Vin, kissing him.

As he had last night, Vin tensed at the contact. But he let it go faster this time, kissing back.

They rested together for a time, the sun coming up and the room growing brighter and warmer. It was going to be another dusty day on the trail, but Chris knew he'd ride better.

They dressed in silence, but it was comfortable. Vin was at the door, slipping into his coat, when Chris stepped in close. He caught the bandana at Vin's neck, tugging on it lightly, then harder to draw Vin closer.

"When we get back to town," he said quietly, "I'm gonna need some help out at the cabin."

Vin nodded, the brim of his hat brushing Chris'. "Just let me know," he said. "Fencing? You thinking about bringing in some horses?"

Chris grinned, pulling a little harder on the bandana until Vin's lips were close, their noses touching. "Thinking 'bout bringing in a stallion," he said. "But reckon I'm gonna need a bigger bed if I want him to be comfortable enough to stop bolting when I get close."

Vin stiffened, and once more, Chris ignored it, pushing their lips together. He held them that way until Vin gave in.

As they parted, he tugged once on the bandana. "Reckon I like you wearing these," he said. "Good for more than dancing."

Vin snorted, but he grinned as Chris let go. "Maybe I'll get to see you wear one," he said, his hand falling to the doorknob.

Chris caught his eye. "Maybe one day, you will."


End file.
